


Time may change me (but I can't trace time)

by dearericbittle (dutchmoxie)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Age Regression/De-Aging, Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Mad Science, Married Life, POV Stiles Stilinski, Science Experiments, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24494545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dutchmoxie/pseuds/dearericbittle
Summary: Stiles doesn’t like calling himself a mad scientist, but if the shoe fits… And when his latest experiment has some interesting side-effects, he has to re-evaluate some things. Mostly about how to stop acting like a child and be a better husband. Preferably before the adoption stuff pans out.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 21
Kudos: 230





	Time may change me (but I can't trace time)

**Author's Note:**

> Well, if Sterek Bingo isn't finished yet, I might as well keep writing. Over 8k in a day... This was very much an impulse, so I hope you all enjoy it. This is what happens when you decide to write about after "and they lived happily ever after"...
> 
> For: De-aged & Mad Science.

34/16

The last thing he remembered was the smoke starting to pour from the mixture in his beaker, a loud noise, and then… nothing.

He woke up on the floor of the lab – his lab – with everything a mess, but with nothing on fire. Because he’d taken precautions for that. Only because his husband had made him, but that was beside the point.

Stiles did most of his best work because of Derek kicking his ass about something. Heck, he’d gotten his first grant because Derek had helped him send in a proper application, instead of just some half-assed mess that probably had to be excluded because of the sheer amount of unrelated babbling in the proposal.

There was a reason those things had a maximum word count – and that reason was not to torture Stiles. Well, it wasn’t _just_ to torture Stiles. It was probably part of it, though.

But he probably had other things to worry about, because his ears were ringing a little and the lab was a mess and he had no idea how long he’d been out. Because he was pretty sure he’d been knocked unconscious somehow, even though he didn’t have much of a headache and he didn’t feel any blood anywhere.

Still, there was a lot of cleaning to be done before he could get home. To his husband, who was waiting up for him for the third night that week, and… Yeah, maybe Stiles just had to check that nothing was contaminated or going to be contaminated if he hauled his ass home already. Because he’d been so busy lately, and Derek hadn’t said anything (because he knew how important this thing was for him) but Stiles knew that he’d have to start doing a lot better if he didn’t want his husband to be secretly disappointed in him.

If he stuck around for clean-up, Derek was going to be asleep already. Stiles grabbed at his phone, trying to get a sense of the time, and swore loudly when he realized that it was past 3 AM already.

He’d fucked up. Badly. He was going to have to do all the groveling in the world to make up for that. Stiles didn’t even know if it would be better to tell Derek he’d been knocked out so it wasn’t his fault, or if that was just going to make it worse because Derek would want him to hire an assistant. And Stiles didn’t need that. Didn’t want that.

But he wanted Derek more than anything. And if it was what Derek wanted…

Time to drag himself home to face the music. Clean-up could wait. If he didn’t come home all night, Derek was actually going to kill him. Just, rip his throat out with his teeth.

Damn werewolves and their aggression.

Not that Derek ever would. Not even when he actually mostly hated Stiles. And it had been ages since then. 

Derek was asleep when he got home. Of course he was. Stiles couldn’t blame him for it.

Still, he was kind of peeved, because Derek was wearing his basketball shorts and nothing else, and what was Stiles to do when faced with all that? He was weirdly riled up (probably from his not quite brush with death) – which meant he kind of really wanted to bury himself in Derek for hours and hours on end until the world felt right again.

God, he’d married well. It had been almost a decade (nine years next summer), and he was still not over it, and he hoped he never would be. Because young Stiles had done him a solid, and now old Stiles (okay, he was only thirty-four, but still) was reaping the benefits.

Fuck, Derek was turning forty in a few months. Stiles had to get on that, because even though Derek pretended that he didn’t care about big celebrations, Stiles knew him well enough to tell that he at least wanted to see all of the pack members they could find. And maybe he’d actually manage to drag Cora Hale out of whatever hole she’d dug herself into. Last he heard it had been Peru, but that had been three years ago. And it had been a postcard, nothing else.

Derek had been devastated. Stiles had a lot of cheering up to do, and he probably would again this Christmas, when she once again failed to be the bare minimum a sister had to be. So maybe that was the thing that Stiles needed to plan for. Days and days and days of cheering up Derek, just the two of them, never even leaving the bed until New Year’s.

Anyway, so, hot husband and horny Stiles? Totally a match made in heaven.

“Babe, I’m home,” Stiles whispered.

The sound didn’t carry, but Stiles knew werewolf hearing would take care of it. So he took off his remaining clothes (most of it had already been thrown into the laundry, because Derek was meticulous about Stiles not bringing his gross research stuff to bed) and waited for his husband to wake up. Because Derek always woke up.

He was never not going to be a light sleeper, apparently.

“What time is it?” Derek rumbled.

“I am so sorry,” Stiles started rambling, because he knew he had to get his apologies in before Derek had a chance to look at the time himself. “I got distracted in the lab and then I had a little mishap with the prototype, and I just lost track of time. I still haven’t cleaned everything up, and yeah, I know that’s a thing I should be doing before I leave but I honestly didn’t want you to wake up alone. Yes, it would have taken that long.”

Heck, he was pretty sure that he was hardly going to have any time to do research later that day. He was going to have to spend hours cleaning stuff up and putting things to right and writing up a report of what had happened and trying to figure out what had gone wrong. Before going home early to appease Derek. Because Stiles was going to cook for him, for once, and be more of a husband than a researcher. For once.

“What time is it?” Derek repeated, familiar with Stiles’ avoidance tactics.

“A little after four,” Stiles reluctantly admitted. “Did I mention that I’m sorry?”

It wasn’t enough, he knew that. Derek didn’t believe in words of appeasement, not when people so often didn’t act on them. Derek had been lied to so many times (and by Stiles, some of those times) that he did better with actions. With proof. Stiles had won him with actions, with his trust, with the way he always came back for Derek, no matter what it cost him. His pretty words and his ramblings didn’t really factor into it.

Okay, maybe some of them did, because Derek was not immune to dirty talk, but that wasn’t the main thing. Actions. Actions spoke loudest to Derek.

“Stiles,” Derek had that disappointed voice again.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles had to say it again. “I’ll be better. I won’t do it again.”

He honestly intended to keep that promise. At this point he’d promise Derek the world if only he stopped looking at Stiles like he didn’t believe him. He’d fucked up.

“Just come to bed,” Derek sighed. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

It sucked, standing a foot away from the bed, in a dark room, hoping he wouldn’t trip over anything and make the night even worse. It sucked, having to go to bed frustrated. But this was not the time to deal with it, and Derek wasn’t going to leave him just because they didn’t solve a fight before they went to sleep.

Never going to bed angry was great advice, but not at 4 am.

“I’m sorry and I love you,” Stiles just had to say it again. “I’ll accept any punishment. I’ll get an assistant even though I don’t want to. I’ll do anything. In the morning.”

Sexual favors? Absolutely. Gladly. Whatever Derek wanted. If Derek wanted, Stiles would abandon his work and let himself be tied to the bed as Derek’s slave. Not that it was a kink they had or whatever, but Stiles was going to devote himself to making Derek happy in whatever way he could. Whatever it took. Because Derek was important. The most important.

“Promise?” Derek teased, because sometimes he was evil.

“Anything,” Stiles was naked and ready.

He slept naked, had ever since he moved in with Derek and no longer had to worry about other roommates catching a glimpse of something they weren’t ready to see. Derek usually wore shorts or boxers if he slept alone. _Only_ if he went to bed alone. 

Yeah, Stiles had been a shitty husband.

“Come to bed,” Derek was already reaching out. “I don’t sleep well without you.”

So Stiles ignored the harsh pang he felt at that and basically leapt at the bed (and at Derek), managing to knock a book off his nightstand in the process. Because of course age hadn’t made him more graceful.

“I don’t either,” he muttered.

Derek would hear, especially since Stiles was determined that his husband got to be the little spoon tonight. Because he deserved to be loved and surrounded and cared for by his workaholic husband. Derek deserved all the cuddles.

“Stiles?” Derek tensed.

“Derek?”

That was not good. Derek didn’t usually tense when Stiles wrapped himself around him – he usually melted into the mattress when Stiles pulled him in close and pressed his palm to Derek’s heart.

“What’s wrong with you?” Derek asked a frankly terrifying question. “Your scar is gone.”

And that was just weird, because, well… Of course Derek was familiar with the way it felt to let Stiles’ scarred palm touch his skin. But why would it be gone?

Stiles let go of Derek, sat up straight in bed, facing his husband as he turned on the light.

“What the fuck?” Derek’s eyes were wide as saucers. “Stiles? Is that… What the fuck?”

Well then. That was not good. That was really not good. That reaction could definitely be categorized as bad. As very bad.

Derek hadn’t looked this terrified of him since they’d first started dating and Stiles had briefly gotten possessed by a ghost. It had not been fun, and it took ages for Derek to stop treating him with kid gloves.

It was why he’d started his research, inventing magics that would let humans equal the playing field against evil monsters. Not werewolves. Because wolves weren’t evil. His pack wasn’t. Most packs weren’t.

But for Derek to look at him that way again… Not good.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles started patting at his own body. “Did that stuff touch me? Did I invent magical scar removal stuff, because dude, that’s going to make us rich!”

His body did feel a bit different. Like he was smaller – fuck was he shrinking? Was that-?

Nope, scar removal and shrinking could not have happened. Not with the stuff he had been working on. Sure, magic was unpredictable, but that just didn’t make sense. So it wasn’t the shrinking, and it wasn’t that his chest was less broad for some reason and his arms felt unsteady and less strong – less like he was completely in control of all of his limbs.

Stiles went to run a hand through his hair and… Fuck.

Hair loss was not a likely effect, but it could have happened. But even if it did, that would have left him completely bald, not with a buzzcut. Or did that mean it was already growing back?

“You’re sixteen again,” Derek reached for him, only to pull back before touching him. “No tattoo, no scar, very little hair. You look just like I did when we met. You’re so young.”

Well, fuck.

“Explain,” Derek crossed his arms over his bare chest.

It went straight to Stiles’ dick, because apparently he was an idiot and sixteen again and a stiff breeze (hah! Stiff!) could turn him on.

“There may have been a bit of a mishap in the lab,” Stiles shrugged, trying to play it cool even though he knew Derek could probably smell the freaked-outness of him. “I may have mentioned that before. There was a lot of smoke and the beaker kind of exploded except it didn’t because it was completely whole, and I kind of passed out.”

He was not going to look at Derek while he explained it, because that disappointed and frustrated and secretly terrified look was already burned onto his eyelids and if he saw it again Stiles was going to curl up and weep. He hated doing this to Derek, and yet somehow he just kept doing it, kept finding new ways to worry Derek with his fragility.

And now they didn’t have their bond, or did they? Stiles couldn’t feel it the way he usually did, by putting his hand on his mark and… He didn’t have the mark when he was sixteen. He didn’t have the Triskele permanently tattooed on his fair skin.

Because at sixteen he’d been an idiot who thought he was going to marry Lydia.

Boy had he been wrong about that. They hadn’t even lasted six months after Stiles came back to Beacon Hills with a toe injury and a Derek in the passenger seat.

Of course they hadn’t. Because it was Stiles, and it was Derek, and they were always going to keep doing their dance – even though it had taken them until Stiles’ college graduation to actually get their shit together and start dating. 

Lydia and Parrish – Jordan, though for some reason that never stuck – had started dating long before that.

“Damn it, Stiles,” Derek sighed heavily.

“I can fix it,” Stiles promised, even though he wasn’t sure it was true. “Tomorrow. After sleep. Or I can just get some energy drinks and keep going. Seeing as I’m sixteen again and I don’t have to worry about my sugar intake for the moment.”

Oh man, at least there were benefits to being sixteen again. Even though he had zero stamina and was going to flail all over himself at the slightest provocation, he didn’t have to worry about heart problems or sugar or other stupid adult stuff, because he got to be an even more stupid teenage boy who didn’t think that far ahead.

Because for a while there, Stiles had thought that he wasn’t going to live to be a stupid adult.

“No,” Derek was not charmed by it. “I remember what you were like. Absolutely not. Also, you have no idea how that would mix with what you’ve already ingested.”

God, he’d picked the best husband. The very, very best one. Or Derek had picked him, but either way: best choice. The best one. Stiles had found himself a husband who was sexy as hell, loyal beyond belief, kind and loving, and so fucking smart and willing to learn about all of the things that Stiles found interesting. Jackpot. Fucking jackpot.

Also, being sixteen again was kind of horrifying, because he could probably come in his pants if Derek kept talking like that. The hair trigger was back, and it was _real_.

“I love it when you talk nerdy to me,” Stiles grinned charmingly at Derek.

He was adorable. Derek had confided in him once that he’d had some thoughts about just how adorable Stiles had been back then, and that a lot of the things that turned him on about Stiles had already been there back then. But they were kind of fighting for their lives and Stiles hadn’t figured out the bisexuality thing yet, and they hadn’t considered each other in any kind of way until long after Stiles hit that legal threshold.

Still… He could totally still flirt with his husband.

“I’m not sleeping with you until you’re back to normal,” Derek clearly wasn’t having any of it. “Consider it extra motivation to fix this. Soon. After we get some sleep. Get back in the bed.”

Yeah, of course Derek smelled how excited Stiles was about this, because teenage hormones were no fucking joke. Honestly, if Derek was really not going to touch him until he was thirty-four again, he was going to need to jerk off so many times. And you know, fix this situation fucking stat. Because he did not want to go through puberty again.

That and he wanted to be himself, at his own age, with an age-appropriate husband and a mortgage and a close relationship with local adoption agencies. Shit, what if they found someone for them and Stiles was stuck as a sixteen-year-old?

Yep, Stiles had really managed to fuck this up. No matter how little he wanted to think about that.

“But I thought you weren’t sleeping with me?” Stiles batted his eyelashes at Derek.

“You are a pain in my ass,” Derek huffed. “Get back in bed. You’d better hope that this is as young as you’re going to get. I’m not changing any of your diapers.”

That was not something he wanted to contemplate. Nope. Not at all.

* * *

34/17

Stiles woke up alone. Hard. In a wet spot. Because apparently he was sixteen and _gross_.

“You’re doing the laundry,” Derek announced from the door opening. “Also, your hair’s grown out a bit.”

Immediately Stiles rushed toward the en-suite bathroom and the mirror, because he had to know exactly what had changed while he’d been sleeping. He dragged his phone along with him, hating how facial recognition was touch and go now – at least it showed him that it was about nine am (which was honestly too early to be awake for someone who’d been up until 4 am in his lab). But at sixteen he was used to barely sleeping.

So he stared into the mirror and was faced with his teenage face for the first time in years. He hadn’t wanted to get a look last night, hadn’t been ready to see it. Even though it was weird, and harsh, because he thought they’d gotten past this by now. He thought he’d gotten past this by now, that he was an adult, that he had his shit together (to some extent, because if he’d been better, this never would have happened). Stiles had gotten used to not picking at flaws and insecurities whenever he looked at himself. But now there was some acne, and gross greasy hair, and so much sweat, and non-stop boners, and the added emotional instability. And it just… Wasn’t fun.

But it had been his own fault, so….

“Young and sweet, only seventeen,” Stiles crooned, off-key as usual.

This was definitely his seventeen-year-old self. The haircut screamed seventeen, at least in comparison with some of the remaining baby fat and the lankiness. He never learned how to put on actual muscle until he was in college – almost done with college, in fact.

So many people made twink jokes at him. So many.

“So it wears off,” Derek sounded relieved.

“Pretty fast too,” Stiles was already doing the math in his head. “Because I guess it started at midnight, and it’s been like, 8 plus hours, so I’ll probably age a year every 8 hours. Which means that I’ll be back to normal in less than a week. And I’ll be legal by dinner time.”

Now that he was a teenager, he could totally go back to the super unsubtle flirting he’d never bothered with when it came to Derek. He could finally have that cheesy teenage romance moment that he kind of wanted to have. Not to devalue his girlfriends, and the college experimentation with dudes, but he kind of wanted to know what it would have been like if Derek had looked his way back then. Or even if Stiles had been ready to admit that he’d been looking Derek’s way the whole time.

Ever since “This is private property”. When the angels started singing and Stiles’ mind was all over how hot Derek had somehow gotten in the years he’d been away. Until the denial kicked in.

“Down, boy,” Derek wasn’t biting.

“Oh come on,” Stiles was trying so hard not to actually start pouting. “You can’t tell me we’re waiting until I look thirty-four again. Do you have any idea how ridiculously attractive you are? You always have been, even before you grew into the ears and the cute teeth, but this… This is something else. I think there’s some grey at your temples and…”

Stiles made an undefined hng noise, because Derek was all kind of distinguished now and it was doing it for him so fucking much. Derek was one of those people who’d just gotten more attractive with age, and as soon as they got the call and finally got to adopt, Derek was going to be the hottest DILF since Chris Argent.

Not that Stiles was ever going to admit to that one out loud. Nope, he’d gotten better at the whole self-preservation thing in the last… seventeen years.

Wow, he was literally half his own age. Fun.

“I’d forgotten that this was what you smelled like all the time,” Derek was actually trying to breathe through his nose, that asshole. “It’s a miracle you ever got anything done.”

Actually, Stiles was the most productive when he was either extremely sexually frustrated, or he’d just played with himself (because it wasn’t like anyone else actually wanted to touch _him_ when he was seventeen). But Derek probably knew that, because he knew everything about Stiles at this point, and he was just needling him.

Why was that now turning him on as well?

Okay, maybe it wasn’t a new thing.

“We can get something done now,” Stiles winked. “Come on, Der, you know you want to. I am even easier for you than usual. And I can just keep going. Well, I don’t have actual stamina yet, but I have like zero refractory time. I can finally keep up with werewolf sex.”

Not that they had problems in bed. It was probably the least of their concerns. They had a very healthy sex life, and Stiles was usually the one who was always ready for more, even when he felt like his brain had been sufficiently melted. He was just never going to get enough of Derek, not even if he lived to be a hundred and two.

“Stiles, you’re insatiable,” Derek didn’t even have the decency to be embarrassed as he admitted that. “I’m the one who has trouble keeping up with you. And it has nothing to do with age. It has everything to do with how much you want me. You want me so much. All. The. Time, Stiles. Anyplace. Anywhere. Anytime.”

And fuck Derek for making that reference. But mostly fuck him for teasing Stiles with everything he could have had if he hadn’t fucked up with his research. Yeah, Derek found this a lot funnier now that he knew it was only a temporary thing.

“You are killing me,” Stiles was pretty sure his balls were going to explode.

That was just how blue they were right now.

“Good,” Derek was far too smug about this. “Maybe then when you’ll get back to normal, you’ll come home at a normal hour.”

Derek was truly a master of vengeance and Stiles was so into him.

“Time to rub one out again,” he sighed. “Damn you and your viciousness.”

Stiles sighed heavily, hoping to persuade Derek into coming into the bathroom with him and doing it in front of the mirror again. Or even just hand jobs in the shower, or Stiles getting on his knees on the cold bathroom tile and showing Derek his appreciation. Shit, he just wanted his husband to touch him again. At this point a fingertip would have done it.

“Think of me,” Derek wasn’t even remotely swayed.

Honestly, wasn’t Stiles supposed to be the evil genius in this marriage?

* * *

34/19

Stiles watched the clock strike midnight. Or more precisely, he watched his phone so closely that he saw the exact second the date changed.

Nineteen again.

“Nineteen,” he told Derek, out loud.

“I don’t remember seeing a lot of you like this,” Derek might have been mocking his admittedly patchy facial hair. “You didn’t come home much that year. Not after DC.”

Well, Stiles turned nineteen, finished all his exams (with awesome grades, even though he’d missed a lot of classes because of weird stuff)… And then was asked not to come back that summer for the internship he’d been counting on. In fact, he’d found out that he was never going to be allowed back to the FBI. Dreams? Crushed.

So when Scott needed him back home yet again, Stiles gave up and transferred to a college back in Cali. And pouted about it for a long time, being involved in the pack only when he absolutely had to be. And he decided that wasn’t going to happen.

“I had managed to lose Lydia already,” Stiles shrugged, because that year wasn’t the best of times for him. “I had blown everything with the FBI. I was mad at Beacon Hills for always bringing me back. I wanted to have a chance at a normal life. Guess that was bullshit.”

Back then he’d been sullen and disappointed. The FBI had been his dream for so long, and to give that up for his pack was extremely difficult. It had taken him a while to accept his lot in life, and to realize that the FBI was not going to make him happy in the long run. He was far happier discovering things, learning things, doing the research.

He was happier in his lab than he’d ever been in the field for the FBI.

Well, even though his toe was now hurting again, that op held some very special memories.

“I’m sorry,” Derek was the one apologizing now, and for no reason too.

“Why would you need to be sorry?” Stiles honestly didn’t get it.

Because of Stiles’ toe? Derek wasn’t the one who’d shot him in the foot. Derek was the one who’d dragged him out of there, rolling his eyes the whole time. Sure, he’d liked to tell the tale a bit differently back then, but the truth was that he never would have made it out of there if it hadn’t been for Derek and his stupidly reliable self. And those strong arms, carrying him to safety. Yeah, still hot.

“The FBI was my fault,” Derek apparently was still brooding over shit he’d done fifteen years ago – and that should not have been surprising.

“Bitch please,” Stiles had apparently also rediscovered his college era vocabulary. “Sorry, dude, Derek, babe. Ugh, sorry. But no, not your fault. My fault. Because I saw your face and I chose at that very moment to drop everything now. And go after you. And save you. And find a getaway car, or whatever Taylor Swift song we were living in at the time.”

Usually that would have at least earned him an eye roll or some other sass (usually involving those glorious murder brows). Now it just sounded out and echoed, because Derek wasn’t going to tease him or laugh at him, because apparently they’d both regressed about fifteen years. Which for Derek, it included a lot of unnecessary guilt and taking the blame and a lot less joking. It was a tragedy, because Derek’s sense of humor was everything to him.

Stiles couldn’t believe that there were people who thought Derek was emotionless.

“You did it for me,” Derek was still determined to hold on to his guilt, apparently.

Okay, so maybe this was a conversation that they should have had when Stiles was nineteen the first time. Maybe Stiles should have managed to get over himself long enough to at least let Derek know that it was self-pity, not anger, that kept them from seeing each other.

Well, he had that opportunity now.

“So what if I did?” Stiles was frustrated, his entire body uneasy. “So what if I didn’t want you to die in FBI custody because they thought you’d committed mass murder? So what? That was still on me. I decided, decided to do it all myself instead of calling in the troops. I could have asked so many people to help me. To help us. But I chose you. Because even though I was a damn idiot with blinders the size of houses, I was always going to help you.”

It wasn’t a pact they’d ever made out loud, but Stiles had sworn that he was always going to come back if Derek needed him. Because he was going to be the one person who hadn’t disappointed him, the one person he could count on at all times.

Yeah, so maybe he should have realized his feelings for Derek a bit sooner.

“You would have done the same for me,” Stiles was sure of that, always had been.

“Yeah,” Derek said, visibly softening. “I would have. So you should have asked.”

_Oh_.

Yeah, he’d been an idiot at nineteen. But he was learning now. 

* * *

34/22

Stiles had finally gotten to a somewhat respectable age – the age he’d been when he’d started more obviously flirting with Derek, and Derek started flirting back. A good age. An age that might let him get lucky again, and allowed him to start acting like a proper partner.

Just not an age at which he was good with kids.

Of course this was when the adoption agency finally called (at six in the morning too!). Not the normal one, the human one that they signed up for because there had been an awkward situation with one of the employees finding out that Derek and Stiles desperately wanted kids. She’d offered to help, and well, they weren’t exactly going to say no and make her think that this was not actually what they wanted. Even though they’d been holding out hope for a supernatural child – because those children needed pack more than human kids did. Because supernatural foster parents were exceedingly rare still, and displaced kids were not. They were _really_ not.

So, getting a call from one of the contacts from the Luna Agency (yeah, the name was not clever, but Stiles was no longer allowed to say anything about it) was not surprising. They had gotten close before, and probably would again.

Somehow they’d never actually been allowed to take a child home before. Not for more than a few days, while the child’s actual family was located.

Stiles shoved the phone at Derek, because even though he was technically an actual adult again, he didn’t want to risk fucking this up by sounding like an idiot hipster who was in no way ready to be a father.

Because he had been a few days ago, and he would be again. He would be. He had to be.

So he let Derek handle the phone call – it wasn’t like his husband had let him out of his line of sight in the past few days. They were both working from home for the time being, telling people not to visit because Stiles had a mishap in the lab and they weren’t sure what the effects would be on someone else.

Yes, that was a lie, but not everyone in their lives was aware of the were thing (wow, solid wordplay there). And they couldn’t let the neighbors see a teenager roaming around. Sure, he wasn’t actually a teenager anymore, but there was still a visible difference. Maybe in two days or so he’d look enough like himself that people wouldn’t question it that much.

“There’s a maybe,” Derek got off the phone looking unsettled. “They don’t know for sure yet that a pack can be found for them, but if they don’t… If they can’t…”

They always knew that it would happen fast, but they never expected that this would be the situation. Honestly, even though they’d dealt with de-aging before, Stiles had expected that time in their lives to be over. But with their luck? Yeah.

Wait, them? Did Derek just say ‘found for them’? As in, more than one?

“When?” Stiles asked. “Them? Multiple kids?”

Sure, they wanted multiple kids eventually, but in one go? Were they ready? Their house was large enough to accommodate an entire pack, so that would be no problem. But going from being a teenager again to suddenly being a father to multiple kids? That was quite a leap, which meant that Stiles was worried he was not going to get it right. Because he was still going to be less than himself. Or whatever this felt like.

It was getting better now that he’d mostly gone back to his normal strength, now that he'd filled out, but he still felt a bit unsure of himself. Why would anyone allow him to handle a child?

“Three or four days from now,” Derek answered the most pressing question first. “Two kids. They’re twins, and they’ve had a rough go of it. They need people who can devote themselves completely to them, who don’t have other kids to worry about. People who can be around at all times, work from home. And people who know about trauma.”

Twins. Stiles could do twins, probably. And they probably weren’t actual babies, so there was very little need for diapers and worrying he was holding a baby wrong with his clumsy hands. The kids were probably going to be old enough to have actual conversations with, even simple ones. They could tell Stiles when they got hungry or tired or sad or whatever.

He could do that. They could do that. Derek was going to be a great father.

“That’s us,” Stiles knew it had to be them.

“They’re only five years old,” Derek’s heart went out to the kids already, Stiles could tell.

Old enough for school, even though werewolf kids were traditionally homeschooled for a while until they got good enough at control to be allowed in regular education. Which meant that the parents had to be confident enough that they could handle elementary education and adhere to the standards. Usually, the entire pack could get involved. But not in their case. It was a little complicated.

But with Derek’s gift for languages, and Stiles’ knowledge of the sciences, the kids were going to be just fine. And they could take as much time as they needed, especially if they’d been through the worst of times already. They could just adjust, learn to be loved – because Derek especially had so much love to give already.

Not that Stiles didn’t. But Derek… Derek needed this so much.

“We’ll be here,” Stiles reached for Derek, because it had long since become automatic to comfort him with hugs. “We can help them. Anything they need. Anything.”

And Derek let him, because that too was a habit. Because over the last decade and change, they’d figured out exactly how their bodies fit together. They’d figured out that while Derek was more broad-shouldered, he liked it better when Stiles was wrapped around him. Or at least, when Derek needed comfort, this was how they did it. When Stiles did, Derek used his strength to make Stiles feel safe and protected.

This time though, this time it was Derek who needed to feel supported.

“You sound like yourself,” Derek sighed, breath ruffling Stiles’ collar.

“I am myself,” Stiles was stubborn about that. “And soon I’ll be all of myself. Right now, I’m about that guy who started dating this incredible werewolf he’d been into for ages.”

He hadn’t just turned into a different person because of the accident. He was still Stiles Stilinski-Hale, and he was always going to be. He was still going to love his husband with all his heart, and he was still going to be a sassy asshole, and he was still going to flirt with Derek all the damn time. And he was going to get Derek to cave.

“You flatter me,” Derek’s sarcasm was at least back from its brief holiday.

“Truth only,” Stiles batted his eyelashes, because he hadn’t forgotten about his mission.

Also, he wasn’t exaggerating. Derek was incredible – he had been back then, and he still was incredible now. So yeah, Stiles was obviously going to remind him of that. The mission was honestly just a bonus.

Because Derek wouldn’t cave. This was punishment for fucking up. He knew that much.

“Still not sleeping with you,” Derek responded.

Damn it. Stiles scratched at the itchy scar on his palm. This getting punished thing was hard.

* * *

34/26

“I like this age on you,” Derek was now actively flirting with him.

Derek was still trying to torture him. He was actively trying to make the punishment even more difficult to endure, now that Stiles was at a very familiar age. They only had a few days left with just the two of them, and Derek was apparently still determined to win.

“Am I of marriageable age now?” Stiles rolled his eyes a little.

“You’re already married,” Derek’s possessive side made a brief appearance. “And now that the tattoo is back, everyone can tell you are bonded. That you’re mine.”

Stiles fucking loved it when Derek got possessive, when he claimed Stiles in any kind of way, even if it was just his way of using the words ‘husband’ and ‘partner’ and ‘mate’ to pointedly refer to Stiles in front of other people. Because Derek was happy to remind Stiles, and everyone else, that he was taken as well.

Yes, they were both possessive assholes, and they made it work for them.

“Are you trying to kill me before the kids get here?” Stiles had to ask. “Because it’s starting to seem like you want to raise them as a widower. Babe, I love you so much. The kids are so lucky to have you. I can’t wait to do this with you. And I fucked up, and I’m so sorry. I’ll put everything on hold. Because I’ve been a pretty shitty husband to you lately. There’s no excuse. I’m prepared to grovel, but you need actions. So tell me. What can I do?”

Okay, that definitely took a turn for the serious. But it was out there now, and he stood by everything he’d said. Because it wasn’t just about that, wasn’t just about sex and stupid blue balls. It was about screwing up and fracturing Derek’s faith in him a little, and not taking care of himself properly when he could have just worn the proper protective gear and hired an assistant to help him do everything safely. There were a lot of things he could have done but instead he insisted on doing it alone – when he didn’t have to.

He never had to do it alone. Not anything. Not with his husband always by his side.

And that was the lesson he was supposed to learn here.

“Take time off,” Derek stated his not quite demands. “When the kids get here. Spend less time at the lab. I’ve missed you. And hire that assistant. Take care of yourself. I never want to do this alone. Because you’re it, Stiles. You’re it for me. Always.”

Fuck, he was so damn lucky. He’d gotten a bit lost in his work, but he was totally going to do better. He really was. Because well, he loved Derek. And they were going to be parents. Stiles couldn’t put kids through this kind of bullshit.

But mostly Derek. Because he knew he could do better, be better.

“I’m sorry I forgot,” Stiles nudged closer to Derek, feeling his husband’s warmth.

There were a million things he probably should say, about how he felt exactly the same way about Derek. How he’d known that Derek was it for him before they’d even started dating, and how thrilled he was that their little pack of two was going to become a pack of four soon. But words weren’t what Derek needed. He needed actions.

“I’ll remind you,” Derek quirked an eyebrow.

“Feel free to remind me all you like,” Stiles winked, like an idiot.

He waggled his eyebrows a little, because it usually tended to make Derek laugh. And it did a little, even though they were just having a pretty damn serious discussion about their relationship. Somehow, Stiles managed to make Derek laugh even when things were less than perfect, and he guarded those smiles and that laughter more than anything else. Because Derek hadn’t had it easy, but he kept going.

It was admirable. It was incredibly impressive. It was just one of the many things Stiles loved about his husband.

“That’s it,” Derek didn’t sound angry though. “Let’s go.”

Stiles was always going to be happy to follow him. That had nothing to do with whatever penance he was still going to need to do. And it only had a little to do with how he loved to watch Derek walk away (yeah, he still had it, and always would). Mostly he was happy because Derek had good ideas, and Stiles trusted him completely.

But still, he kind of preferred to know what they were doing first.

“What are we doing?” Stiles just had to know.

Not that he wasn’t following Derek upstairs, and into their bedroom. Wait, what?

“I’m reminding you,” Derek said it so matter-of-factly. “Get naked.”

It was the middle of the day, how scandalous!

He was totally into it, and also totally smart enough not to remind Derek this meant that Stiles had kind of won. Because he intended to make sure that they both won, of course.

“The romance is truly dead,” Stiles sighed dramatically as he almost ripped his clothes in his hurry to get naked. “I love you, idiot. At any age.”

Derek was already naked. Damn, he loved that exhibitionist.

* * *

34/30

Derek had been pacing back and forth for about half an hour now, and no matter what Stiles did, he couldn’t distract him for any serious length of time. Not for longer than a few seconds, anyway. Even though he had all of the tools at his disposal.

Not that he wanted to use them at a time like this. Because this was not the time to seduce his husband. Yeah, shocking. He just didn’t want the kids to show up while they were in the middle of something. That would just traumatize everyone involved, and it was just really not the kind of first impression Stiles wanted to make on the twins.

Dinner had come and gone, and Stiles was pretty sure that Derek had barely tasted any of it, even though Stiles had made one of his favorite dishes. Not just as an apology, but also because this was a special day and that meant that Derek deserved to have nice things. More so than he usually did – because he always deserved that.

“They’ll be here soon, babe,” Stiles tried to sound as reassuring as he possibly could. “They were an hour away an hour ago. They’ll be here soon. They’ll get here even if you don’t stare at the road the whole time. Come, sit with me a while.”

Who was he against wolfy instincts, huh? The twins were pack already, even though they’d never met them, and Stiles and Derek had very little information about them so far. They’d get the files when the social worker (or the werewolf equivalent) brought the kids to them. So far, they were pretty much driving blind. Just names and their age.

It didn’t matter to Derek, though. He loved them already.

“I have to protect them,” Derek said almost helplessly.

“Alright,” Stiles mentally adjusted his plans. “So we’ll watch out for them together. Because that’s how we’re doing this, together. As equals. Because I’m almost back to normal. By the time we all wake up tomorrow, I’ll be 32. Tomorrow night around midnight, I’ll be my annoying self again. The kids don’t even have to know about it. We can tell them about my idiocy another time – I’ll let you explain it to them. You know you like that.”

Stiles’ heart was already softening at just the mental image of Derek patiently explaining to the kids that sometimes Dad was a bit of an idiot. And that they were allowed to laugh at him a lot if he accidentally dyed his hair or blew off his eyebrows (again), and that they were allowed to tell him to be careful. Okay, so he was kind of melting now. Great.

“I do like making fun of you,” Derek nodded, still distractedly looking out the window.

“You really do,” Stiles just had to laugh at that. “Far too much, if you ask me. But you’re not asking me, so. Oh, they’re here. I think it’s them. They’re here.”

Now Stiles was the one with his heart pounding in his chest, trying to find a way to breathe and a way to make himself look and sound and smell appealing to a pair of young, very traumatized werewolves. He didn’t know what he’d do if they didn’t like his scent.

It wasn’t like that had never happened before.

“Stiles, calm down,” Derek was ever so serious.

“Look who’s talking,” Stiles muttered slightly too loudly, already heading towards the door. “Slow down, old man. You’ll give yourself even more grey hairs if you keep going like this.”

The car had come to a complete stop, an unfamiliar figure stepping out first and flashing golden eyes towards the house. Derek’s flashed in return – it was only polite. Stiles just pasted on a crooked smile, because he didn’t have special wolf eyes and he was going to be the fragile human and that was just fine with him.

Had the twins been made aware that they’d have a human parent as well? Was he going to have to painstakingly teach them to be careful with him? Were they going to run roughshod over him until he had to call in the werewolf equivalent of SuperNanny?

Okay, now that was definitely the anxiety talking.

“I thought you liked the silver fox thing?” Derek shot back.

Yes, he really did. He loved the grey hair. It made Derek seem more real, more approachable and a lot softer. A lot more like a guy who’d be a good Dad to a pair of scared twins.

Also, it turned him on, but that was really not the time.

“Are you ready?” Derek asked, reaching out for Stiles’ hand.

“Ready,” Stiles nodded, clinging to his husband’s hand.

Together, they opened the door.

* * *

34

Stiles woke up a few minutes past eight. Not because the kids had woken up already – apparently they’d finally fallen asleep after about half a dozen middle of the night wake-up calls and nightmares. No, he woke up because he felt refreshed, even though he’d barely caught enough sleep the night before.

He stared at the clock and realized that enough time had passed. The magic had faded. He was thirty-four again. He was back to his old self, literally.

“Want me to check for grey hairs?” Derek rumbled from right next to him.

“As long as you check everywhere,” Stiles grinned, happy to tease his husband a little. “And I do mean everywhere.”

Sure, nothing was going to come of it, because Derek was far too distracted by listening for the twins’ steady breathing a few rooms over. They’d been inseparable, and so Derek and Stiles decided that it didn’t matter that they’d had two separate rooms prepared. Their kids were going to stay together if that was what they wanted. Puppy piles and all.

Apparently the kids had already mastered the full-shift. That had something to do with why they’d had such trouble, so they hadn’t mentioned it to them. Instead Derek had shifted along with them, draping himself over the couch and waiting for them to come to him.

Yes, Stiles was totally going to make him clean that up himself. The shedding just got too crazy for him.

Though he’d been hoping he’d eventually get invited into the puppy pile as well. But it supposedly took more time when it came to humans. They’d get there though. It had only been a day, and Stiles had always been stubborn as hell.

“Not with the kids ready to wake up,” Derek was far too happy to deny him. “You know that. We are not doing this where Ezra and Ophelia are bound to walk in on us.”

One of these days they’d find a lock for the bedroom door – and they’d actually close the door again, because the room was scent- and soundproofed. But for now, it was more important that the twins knew where they were at all times. That they knew that their Dads (their Dads!) weren’t going anywhere.

“The life of a new parent,” Stiles sighed dramatically.

He loved them already. It had happened quickly. The second they’d gotten out of the car, two little wolf cubs (Derek said it was totally fine to call them cubs even when they looked human) clinging to each other as they slowly moved towards the house. Two dark-haired kids with olive skin and beta gold eyes, wide open as they tried to take in the house and their new parents.

Parents. They were actually parents now. It still boggled the mind.

“I can tell how happy you are,” Derek admitted, almost blushing.

“Because I am, doofus,” Stiles figured that kissing was still allowed. “I’m terrified that I won’t get it right, but I’m thrilled. Because I get to do it with you.”

Look, Stiles had some awesome examples that he’d learned from. Derek had too, even though it had been so very long since he’d had parents of his own. Grandpa Stilinski had already promised that he was going to visit as soon as they thought the kids were ready. They’d figure it out.

“I thought that maybe you weren’t ready,” Derek looked right at Stiles when he said it.

“Maybe I wasn’t,” Stiles hated admitting it, but Derek probably wasn’t wrong. “But I just went through puberty and my angsty college years all over again. And it feels like if I can do that, and have you support me the whole way… Yes, even though you made fun of my awesome facial hair. It wasn’t so bad. It was time to grow up. Do better.”

Derek nodded along to his words, because apparently what he was saying made sense. It did to him, anyway. This was a lesson he apparently needed to learn. It had been the right time, and he was pretty sure that he’d taken it to heart.

But also, this was far too serious and that still made him itch. He had that much immaturity left.

“Besides, the twins are going to make awesome minions,” Stiles grinned.

What? Stiles was going to be the cool Dad, the one who taught them all about cool science stuff and magic and how to deal with bullies the human way. Or, well, the non-physical way. He had a whole bunch of advice to impart on them, and plenty of time to train them to follow in his footsteps properly.

“Stiles, no,” Derek groaned.

He was totally kidding. Or was he?


End file.
